Page 61 of Boys Who Hunt
Rage fills my bones.
Yet I still do what he asks, licking off his fingers until I can taste both him and me on my tongue for what feels like forever.
Victory drags out a smug half smile on his face, making me want to repeat it all over again. But if I did, this game of back-and-forth would never end. This is what he wants. For me to realize there is no way out, no way to take back what I gave away: My freedom to do whatever I wanted.
And I handed it to him on a silver platter.
As his fingers leave my throat, I cough, but his other hand slowly tightens around my neck. He towers over me, dick tenting his pants, and I can’t do anything but let him squeeze off the vein in my neck until I’m lightheaded.
He inches closer and closer until he’s a hair’s breadth away from me, and his tongue dips out to lick my top lip. Just a hint. Just a taste. Just a single touch.
And my pussy is already throbbing.
Fuck no, Ivy! Don’t allow it to affect you.
“Stand up,” he says, a filthy grin on his face as he pulls me up from the floor with a firm grip around my throat.
He guides me back until I’m right in front of the couch, and he sits down, his gaze as well as his hands slowly gliding down my body all the way from my nipples, which peak out of the dress, down to my belly button hiding behind thin white cotton.
His fingers crawl underneath the short skirt of the maid’s outfit, leaving goose bumps in his wake. He pushes up the dress until my thong is exposed, stopping only once the scar he left is visible.
His eyes travel up to mine, and their hunger makes me swallow. “This scar …” His finger slides across the mark he created on my skin. “It looks so goddamn good on your skinny bones. You’ll learn to fucking love it.”
“The fuck I w—”
His devilish tongue rolling across the scar has me choking on my own damn words. He circles it around every letter, following the pattern, drawing out THIEF once more on my skin while fucking moaning. His fingers curl around my thong, and he slowly tugs it down. Before it’s even hit the floor, his fingers are already coaxing out the wetness between my legs.
Fuck.
“Wet already, little thief?” he groans, vicious excitement on his face.
I bite my lip in order for the moan to stay inside my mouth as he rolls his fingers around my most sensitive area.
“You like being treated like my personal, slutty toy.” He grins. “Admit it.”
“The fuck I will,” I say.
He shoves two fingers inside me, and I gasp, nearly falling over on top of him, steadying myself only on the tips of my toes.
“You’re a thief who deserves nothing less. Every time you dare to talk back to me, I will make you eat your words and moan for me instead.”
He swivels around inside me and presses my G-spot, making me suck in a breath.
How did he find it so quickly?
“Every time you try to hide from me, I will drag you out with my tongue spearing your pussy, do you understand?”
When I don’t answer, he fishes a knife from his pocket and presses it into the scar, making it bleed again.
“Answer me.” He pulls out his fingers, abruptly ending the pleasure.
“Yes,” I reply.
THWACK!
The knife sticks into the wood between my feet, buried all the way to the hilt.
Smiling, he leans in and licks up the droplet of blood, groaning like he’s obsessed. “Little thief … get on your knees.” The wordsalmost come out animalistic, and the mere sound of them forces me to sink right in front of him until my knees hit the floor.